Ch'thyr'kahh R' Hirogen
by Wyoming Farnsworth
Summary: This is the untold origin of the hunter race, the Hirogen
1. Default Chapter

Ch'thyr'kahh R' Hirogen  
Translated (Starfleet Standard [SFS]): Scroll of the Hirogen  
  
  
Remoor  
Translated (SFS): One  
  
  
Out of the immortal darkness  
From which all worlds of the universe are granted shape,  
Etutheria appeared.  
  
In the beginning,  
It was a fragment of nothingness,  
The merest speck of rock -  
A pebble from the galactic beach long since cast off  
By Gratta, He Who Governs The Universe.  
  
Etutheria was unintended from conception.  
It remained ignored at birth.  
It stayed isolated throughout infancy.  
  
Fed by bitter shadows and  
Unbeknownst to Gratta, who was occupied elsewhere,  
The tiny rock grew.  
Etutheria blossomed,  
Layer after layer,  
Lifeform upon lifeform,  
Continent by continent.  
It grew, of its own volition, into a mighty planet.  
  
In this - the dawn of all ages -  
On this - the place that would spawn a legend named 'Hirogen' -  
Awoke the beasts, large and small.  
First came the K'rta Beasts,  
Followed by the Flayy,  
And then came the Irro.  
Soon, there were too many to count.  
Along with the creatures, Etutheria welcomed the plants -  
The M'rini Reeds and Chepka Grass -  
And the elements - the wind, the water, the flame -  
Until, eventually, the world was so richly populated that it could  
Only be called the Wild.  
  
Across the world, the Wild roamed without discipline.  
Etutheria knew no master.  
There was no order but for chaos.  
Life hosted no death.  
  
Through the passage of time and  
Driven by the abundance of spirit,  
Etutheria awoke to life itself.  
The world grew stronger.  
As the beasts grew more powerful, so did Etutheria.  
As the plants grew more plentiful, so did Etutheria.  
As the elements waged war on one another, so did Etutheria  
Draw strength from their collective and respective wraths.  
  
The world breathed with each passing day  
So strongly,  
So exuberantly,  
Until spirits could no longer survive singly, and  
Breaking Day had arrived.  
  
An inkling - a sliver of life - was given  
By each of the living things  
In the Wild.  
From the K'rta came courage.  
From the M'rini Reeds came height, posture.  
From the wind came relentless pursuit.  
Each living thing provided sustenance for  
What was to come,  
And with these elements was mixed  
The bastard soil of Etutheria's own bossom.  
  
Lightning flashed in the sky.  
The Irro cried reverently in the open fields.  
The Chepka Grass yielded.  
As Etutheria was born without intent,  
So did the world create life  
To call its own.  
  
From this brew sprang the new beast,  
And He stood tall, naked,  
The Wild looking on,  
Waiting for Etutheria to speak His name.  
Finally, the world spoke.  
'Hirogen,' it said.  
  
Wind howled through the trees,  
For it knew that He would bring mastery to the world.  
A chorus of Flayy sang his name in harmony  
For they feared he would bring order to the chaos.  
The M'rini Reeds bent in homage to him  
For they understood that he would provide death for those chosen.  
  
His name was Remoor.  
  
He would bring balance to the Wild,  
And his birthing cry on Breaking Day  
Finally stirred Gratta himself. 


	2. Chapter 02

Ch'thyr'kahh R' Hirogen  
Translated (Starfleet Standard [SFS]): Scroll of the Hirogen  
  
  
Anula  
Translated (SFS): Two  
  
  
As it was, Gratta descended through the heavens  
Upon N'noka,  
The Garden of Etutheria that  
He Who Governs The Universe had not created.  
There, on the planet's surface,  
He studied all living things.  
  
First, He studied the Wild.  
  
He studied the mighty K'rta Beasts,  
He studied the lowly Flayy,  
And He studied the merrily trotting Irro.  
Then, he studied the strong M'rini Reeds,  
And he tasted the colorful Chepka Grass.  
Despite the lack of His touch on the world,  
He found that all living things were good,  
And, to His surprise, he was angered further.  
How could this have happened without  
His divine touch?  
It defied all laws in the universe  
He had enacted,  
So there must be penance.  
But who or what should be punished  
For chance's sake?  
  
Then, he saw Remoor, the Hirogen,  
But he had grown tired of study.  
Instead, Gratta took the shape  
Of a Flayy, and He slithered across the ground  
Up to Remoor.  
  
'How is it you have come to life?'  
Gratta asked of the Hirogen,  
The mighty wondering what the freakling's answer  
Could possibly be.  
  
'How is it you have found speech?'  
Remoor replied to the beast.  
  
'I have always had speech,'  
Gratta lied, as He had been known to do.  
'It is you to which I have now chosen  
To speak. Tell me how you have found life,  
And I will be forever grateful.'  
  
'The spirit of Etutheria has given me life,'  
Remoor said to what he believed was  
Little more than a creature.  
'Why, even some of your very blood runs through  
My body, Flayy.'  
  
'This world birthed you?'  
Gratta asked, and  
Remoor told the creature that it had.  
Insulted, He Who Governs The Universe grew angry.  
His ire rising, he desired to punish all of Etutheria  
For defying The Way of Things.  
He thought of destroying the planet,  
Of wiping the surface clean of all life,  
But then calm returned,  
And he toyed with thoughts of mercy.  
For, despite Etutheria's existence,  
He still governed.  
His power was infinite.  
His will was eternal.  
Mercifully, He decided that Etutheria would remain  
So long as this single being understood  
Respect was owed to He Who Governs.  
  
'What of Gratta?'  
The creature replied.  
  
'Who is Gratta?'  
Remoor asked.  
  
'Gratta is He Who Governs The Universe,'  
The disguised Flayy said.  
  
'I do not know this name. What of him?'  
Remoor said.  
  
'Have we been given his approval to live?'  
Gratta asked.  
'Have we sought his approval to live?'  
  
Before he answered, Remoor looked to the sky.  
'Does the cloud ask the Chepka Grass  
For permission to rain?'  
  
Incensed, Gratta changed His shape  
From the slithering Flayy to His normal guise.  
Now having fingers, he pointed at the Hirogen,  
And He said,  
'Does the cloud have speech, freakling?'  
  
Surprised, Remoor trembled.  
'Oh powerful Gratta,  
I did not know that it was you to whom I was speaking.  
Of course, the cloud cannot speak,  
But neither does the Flayy.'  
  
His irritation growing,  
He Who Governs The Universe used His power,  
And He changed the sky from blue to red  
By affecting the composition of  
Etutheria's nearby sun.  
Remoor watched the sky turn red,  
And he cried, ashamed of his blasphemy.  
  
'Do I deserve your obedience now, freakling?'  
Gratta asked.  
  
Remoor knew that he had offended He Who Governs.  
  
'Oh powerful one, I meant no disrespect.  
I was only speaking of the events I have seen.  
Oh powerful one, I give you my word  
That I and the other creatures of Etutheria  
Have nothing but praise for your will.  
We seek your guidance.  
We understand our place on the hill.  
You are most powerful,  
And we bow humbly to your graces.'  
  
Despite the tremor in Remoor's voice,  
Gratta wasn't convinced.  
  
'You and your kind are freaklings,'  
Gratta said.  
'You have neither my blessing nor my approval.'  
  
'I beg you, oh powerful one,'  
Remoor tried.  
'I beg you for mercy.'  
  
In shame,  
Remoor fell on the ground,  
Offering his very life  
In exchange for the life of Etutheria itself  
To He Who Governs.  
  
'I beg you to not destroy this world,'  
Remoor tried.  
'I have been disobedient,  
And I, alone, should suffer the consequences.'  
  
Smiling,  
Gratta finally studied the Hirogen.  
Remoor was tall and appeared powerful itself.  
Even though it lacked divine creation,  
The Hirogen might be worthy of existence.  
  
'Arise, Hirogen,'  
Gratta commanded.  
'I shall give you a challenge.  
If you pass one simple test,  
Then I will allow you and your brethren to exist.' 


	3. Chapter 03

Ch'thyr'kahh R' Hirogen  
Translated (Starfleet Standard [SFS]): Scroll of the Hirogen  
  
  
R'wekk  
Translated (SFS): Three  
  
By His hand and  
In His deceiving grace,  
Gratta, He Who Governs,  
Led Remoor, the Hirogen,  
Into the Wild of Etutheria  
Where the beasts of the world  
Roamed the hills without end.  
  
'These are your brethren?'  
Gratta asked,  
Raising His finger,  
Pointing into the Wild.  
  
Remoor studied the playful beasts.  
The K'rta Braves -- the males -- were  
Wrestling one another for leadership of the pack.  
Nearby, in the shade of a Syrokk Tree,  
He saw a K'rta nursling with its mother.  
As he watched, the infant tiredly stretched and curled  
Its six tiny limbs  
As it lay down to sleep  
In the warmth of its mother's rising bossom.  
In the mother's face, He saw contentment.  
  
Remoor agreed with Gratta.  
'I am nothing more than a reflection  
Of their whole,'  
He said.  
  
'Explain,'  
Gratta demanded.  
  
'I have the courage of a K'rta beast,'  
He said.  
'I, one day, will fight to lead a pack.  
I have the speed of an Irro.  
I, one day, will race the prairies.  
I have the height of a M'rini Reed.  
I, one day, will grown strong, undaunted.  
I have the humility of the Chepka Grass.  
I, one day, will yield to the elements.  
I have breath from Etutheria's wind.  
I, one day, will strike like thunder.  
I have the blood of the Wild in my veins.  
I, one day, will become the Wild.  
On Breaking Day, I was given shape by Etutheria itself.  
I, one day, will be a world unto myself.'  
  
He Who Governs was enraged.  
  
'Who will be your God?'  
  
Remoor thought about the question,  
Uncertain of what a God was.  
  
He asked, and Gratta told Him,  
'Your God is that which gives you life.'  
  
Remoor smiled.  
'That is simple, oh powerful one,'  
He said.  
'I owe myself to Etutheria.'  
  
Having heard the words He expected,  
Gratta smiled at the Hirogen  
But, underneath, his rage grew.  
'But it is I who govern all things,'  
Gratta replied.  
'Without my permission,  
Etutheria would be dust.  
Without my mercy,  
Etutheria would be empty.'  
  
Remoor was confused.  
'Powerful one, Etutheria exists,'  
He said.  
'Have you not seen the world before  
Your very eyes?'  
  
'It exists because I have made it so,'  
Gratta said,  
Lying as He Who Governs  
Had been known to do.  
  
'Then, I grant you my gratitude,'  
Remoor offered.  
'I grant you my obedience.'  
  
'And, in this obedience,  
You will accept my challenge?'  
Gratta asked.  
  
'Whatever you ask of me, I shall serve,'  
Remoor consented.  
  
Gratta smiled.  
  
He heard the hoofbeats of the beasts  
Cavorting nearby, and  
He knew what he wanted to have done.  
  
'There will be many trials,'  
Gratta said.  
  
'I understand, powerful one,'  
Remoor agreed.  
  
'You must be patient,'  
Gratta explained,  
'As patient as the Chepka Grass grows.'  
  
'I understand and agree, powerful one,'  
Remoor offered his obedience.  
  
Again, Gratta smiled.  
  
'Your first trial will be to  
Prove that you are worthy of existence,'  
said Gratta.  
'You will do so, without question,  
By killing every K'rta in the Wild.'  
  
Remoor looked to the prairie.  
The infant K'rta was now sleeping  
In the arms of its mother, and  
A great sadness fell over the Hirogen's heart.  
  
'You will do so, without delay,'  
said Gratta.  
'Cry out for me when you have finished.' 


	4. Chapter 04

Ch'thyr'kahh R' Hirogen  
Translated (Starfleet Standard [SFS]): Scroll of the Hirogen  
  
  
Anules  
Translated (SFS): Four  
  
  
Gratta, He Who Governs All Things,  
Had Spoken.  
  
By the Creator's command,  
Etutheria was to be cleansed of K'rta Beasts.  
They would no longer roam the Wild.  
They would no longer love.  
They would no longer breed K'rtalings.  
The Braves would no longer fight  
For leadership of the pack, and  
The Frails would no longer raise young  
To suckle from their breasts.  
  
As the Cruel Fates would have it,  
One of the very creatures that had given life  
To Remoor was to be hunted to extinction  
By the Hirogen's unflinching hand.  
  
'To save all creatures, I must destroy  
Each and every K'rta beast  
That lived and breathed throughout N'noka,'  
He said, and  
He felt the Garden of Etutheria tremble.  
  
'It is not just,'  
The Garden told Him.  
  
'I agree,'  
He told N'noka.  
'I have been given no choice.'  
  
'You can refuse to follow  
The wish of Gratta,'  
The Garden told Him.  
  
Remoor knew differently.  
In order to save all life,  
He had to take life,  
And the K'rta had been chosen  
By He Who Governs.  
  
'If I should fail?' Remoor wondered.  
  
He prophesied that such disobedience,  
Intended or accidental,  
Would only anger the supreme, Gratta.  
  
Stirred by the Cruel Fates,  
He Who Governs would descend from the skies,  
Twisting fire blazing in His wake.  
Gratta, embodying both Good and Evil,  
Would complete the vile deed,  
The vile injustice against life,  
Himself.  
  
'If I should fail,  
He Who Governs would take the lives  
of more than the K'rta Beasts,'  
Remoor said.  
  
Should He err in his task, Remoor risked being deemed  
'Unworthy of existence.'  
All of Etutheria, the Hirogen included,  
Would be cleansed as punishment  
For his solitary weakness.  
  
'Is it not a greater sacrifice  
For life to be ended, if needlessly,  
By a friend rather than by a foe  
Taking the shape of a vengeful God?'  
Remoor asked the Garden.  
  
'For that question,  
There is no answer,'  
The Garden replied.  
  
So it was, that Remoor, the Hirogen,  
Set out upon His task.  
  
With a heavy heart,  
Remoor marched into the Wild,  
Ignoring the cries of welcome  
From all the beasts who called out to Him,  
Their creation.  
  
As He marched, He studied the ground.  
Eventually, the Cruel Fates  
Showed Him with a stone,  
Sticking out of the ground,  
Piercing soil as if to haunt and remind Him  
of his task.  
The stone sparkled in the sunlight,  
Its leading edge rising nearly to a point.  
  
He pointed at the rock.  
'There,'  
He said.  
'There lies the symbol  
Of my destiny.'  
  
He touched the edge,  
And its sharpness cut a layer of His hide.  
  
'I shall call you Thunder,'  
He said,  
'For you will eventually strike.'  
  
With His hands, He wrenched Thunder from the soil.  
Once the stone was freed,  
Remoor walked on,  
Still ignoring the greetings from his brethren.  
  
Nearby, He found a tall but weak Syrokk tree,  
And, using His might, He tore  
Two branches as thick as one of His arms  
From the trunk.  
Using great care, He tore the bark  
Away slowly, into long thin strips.  
Between the two branches, He placed  
Thunder, and He wrapped the stripped wood  
Around and around and around, like twine,  
Locking the stone in place.  
  
'Thunder,' He named the lance,  
And His time had come to strike. 


	5. Chapter 05

Ch'thyr'kahh R' Hirogen  
Translated (Starfleet Standard [SFS]): Scroll of the Hirogen  
  
  
Renarr  
Translated (SFS): Five  
  
  
For twenty rises and for twenty falls  
Of Etutheria primary, the star Etu,  
Remoor the Hirogen hunted and slayed His  
brethren, the K'rta Beasts.  
  
As word of his deeds spread  
Throughout the K'rta,  
The beasts quickly abandoned N'noka,  
The Garden of Etutheria, and  
They took to the Wild.  
The Braves hoped that Remoor,  
Whom they believed had lost all sense,  
Would let them go.  
They hoped for their families, and  
They hoped for their very lives.  
  
But the Crusade from N'noka  
Failed to slow Remoor's hand.  
  
In order to complete His trail,  
A sentence placed on Him by the powerful Gratta,  
Remoor moved beyond N'noka,  
The Garden,  
And He tore into the very heart of the Wild,  
Where Etutheria itself bared witness  
To what one of its children had become.  
  
Wanting to stay the bloodshed,  
The World spoke through its wind  
To the Hirogen.  
  
'Remoor,'  
It called.  
'Remoor, Remoor, Remoor.'  
  
Surprised to learn that the World  
Would still speak to Him after what  
He had done,  
Remoor stopped to listen.  
  
'Remoor, why do you do this?'  
The World asked.  
  
'He Who Governs  
Has made it so,'  
He said.  
  
'But He Who Governs  
Did not create you,'  
The World replied.  
'We created you,  
And you owe your allegiance  
To us.'  
  
Remoor knew that He could never make  
Etutheria understand the reason  
For His actions.  
  
'I must kill all the K'rta Beasts,'  
The Hirogen said.  
  
'They are your brethren,'  
The World replied.  
  
'And I will always be thankful  
For that which they gave me,'  
Remoor said.  
  
'Then you must see that  
What you are doing is slaughter,  
Not justice,'  
The World explained.  
  
'There is no slaughter,'  
Remoor said.  
'There is only the justice of the Hunt.'  
  
When N'noka itself begged for His mercy,  
Remoor refused to listen.  
  
The Hirogen braved the Wild, and  
The Cruel Fates stirred something in His heart.  
  
Despite the disappointment of his actions,  
Remoor began to enjoy the Hunt.  
  
Despite loathing Himself for K'rta He silenced,  
Remoor began to sense  
The pulse of His Prey's heart  
In His own blood, and the  
Sensation drove Him to a calculated madness  
That pushed Him further and further and further  
Into a murderous frenzy.  
  
Despite the insolence He showed Etutheria,  
Remoor tasted the scent of Fear  
Blowing at Him in the winds and  
It fed Him when He hungered and  
It wet Him when He thirsted.  
  
Despite the anger He felt at taking the lives  
of His brethren,  
Remoor began to enjoy the Hunt.  
  
Quickly, He grew efficient with Thunder, and  
He grew efficient at killing.  
  
All the while, Etutheria watched in horror.  
  
After twenty rises of Etu,  
Remoor had finished the deed.  
  
The World was empty of K'rta.  
Throughout N'noka and beyond,  
There breathed  
No Braves, no Frails, and no K'rtalings.  
  
From His place where He governs all things,  
Gratta watched the Trail of Remoor and  
Was pleased by what he witnessed.  
  
The Powerful One returned to N'noka, and  
He met Remoor as He returned from the Hunt.  
  
'For your obedience, I shall reward you,'  
Gratta said.  
  
'I do not feel the worth,'  
Remoor replied.  
  
'Worth is beheld by the eyes of an immortal,'  
Gratta explained.  
'The Hunt is for the mortal.'  
  
'A Hunter deserves His spoils,'  
The Hirogen said.  
'I will take my reward.'  
  
Gratta smiled,  
As He was pleased.  
  
'As you proven your worth, I shall make you  
A race of people,  
A race of Hunters,'  
He Who Governs decreed.  
  
Remoor's heart grew heavy.  
  
'The Hunt is a sacrament  
Between the Hunter and His Prey,'  
He said.  
  
'You are disrespecting My name,'  
Gratta warned.  
  
His anger tempted,  
Remoor cried,  
'You have made me kill my brethren  
As a show of obedience!  
Why would I think I was deserving  
Of more brother to kill?'  
  
'You would not kill  
Your own kind,'  
Gratta said.  
  
'Why would I wish it to have more  
Like me,  
Staring back at myself?'  
Remoor asked.  
'Why would I want to look upon  
My own guilty face  
Everywhere I looked?'  
  
Gratta smiled, as He was pleased.  
  
'You may do as you wish,'  
The Hirogen said.  
'Regardless, I will only Hunt alone.'  
  
'As Remoor has counseled me,  
He Who Governs will counsel Remoor  
By telling you that  
You may do as you wish,'  
Gratta said.  
  
The Hirogen suddenly felt weary, and  
His vision blurred.  
In His haste, He lay on the ground in  
N'noka, the Garden,  
And he slept.  
  
Etu rose and set  
Three times  
While Remoor slept.  
  
When He awoke,  
The Hirogen found Himself surrounded  
in the Garden  
By more and more and more  
Visions of himself than He could count.  
His brethren,  
His true brethren,  
Stood  
Everywhere that He looked.  
Hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds  
Of eyes  
Stared back at Him ...  
  
Waiting.  
  
'Here is the reward  
For your obedience to He Who Governs,'  
Gratta said.  
  
'We cannot all live in  
N'noka, the Garden,'  
Remoor explained.  
  
'There is life beyond the Garden,'  
Gratta said.  
  
'Where are we to find sustenance?'  
Remoor asked.  
  
Gratta smiled, as He was pleased.  
  
'You must continue to hunt,'  
Gratta said.  
  
His heart pounding,  
Nearly breaking His weary chest,  
Remoor looked to his brethren.  
  
'Is there no other way?'  
The Hirogen asked.  
  
'You are being ungrateful,'  
Gratta warned.  
'I have given you a life,  
And you have given me complaint.  
I have given you Spirit in the Hunt,  
And you have doubted your worth.  
I have given you a world, all of Etutheria,  
And you have given me disrespect.  
I have given you a race, the Hirogen,  
And you give me nothing but questions.  
Certainly,  
Remoor is not deserving of my graces.'  
  
'Oh, powerful one,'  
The Hirogen said.  
'I meant no ill tongue  
For you,  
For your rewards,  
For your graces.  
Forgive my blasphemy, and  
Let me take back my words.'  
  
'Not without a penance,'  
Gratta said.  
  
'Whatever pleases you, oh powerful one,'  
Remoor replied.  
  
'You have brethren to feed,'  
Gratta decreed.  
'You have wounds to mend.  
Perhaps, together, we can service both needs.'  
  
'Whatever pleases you, oh powerful one,'  
Remoor said.  
  
'To erase your disgrace,  
I decree that you must teach your brethren the Hunt,'  
Gratta decreed.  
  
'But, He Who Governs,  
There are no K'rta Beasts  
Roaming the plains  
Left to hunt,'  
Remoor explained.  
  
'No,'  
Gratta agreed,  
'But there are the defenseless Irro.'  
  
And  
Gratta smiled, as He was pleased. 


	6. Chapter 06

Ch'thyr'kahh R' Hirogen  
Translated (Starfleet Standard [SFS]): Scroll of the Hirogen  
  
  
Renarr  
Translated (SFS): Anuloxx  
  
  
Having seen with their own eyes  
The danger,  
The damage,  
The bloodshed  
Inflicted upon the K'rta Beasts by  
Remoor, one of their own,  
The Irro had escaped into the Wild.  
  
Having heard the words of Gratta,  
He Who Governs,  
They knew that they were the next  
To fall victim to the Powerful One's  
Joyful wishes.  
  
Having breathed the winds of Etutheria and  
Having found an appreciation for their  
Own existence,  
The Irro fled deeper and deeper into the Wild,  
Farther than any of the beasts had ever been.  
They passed the plains of Fyrntl, and  
They climbed the rocks of Wasterbrook, and  
They crossed the rivers at Podderym.  
For many risings and settings of Etu,  
They continued their journey until  
They, at last, came to the Shanklands,  
Where the trees grew thickest and  
The grass grew taller than in all of Etutheria.  
  
For, in the Shanklands,  
The Irro believed they would find peace.  
They believed they would find happiness  
In the shape of a new Garden.  
They believed they were out of reach of  
Remoor, the Hirogen.  
  
However, He Who Governs saw everything, and  
He shared what he had seen with Remoor.  
  
'You must brave the Shanklands,'  
Gratta said.  
'I have looked upon the world, and  
I have seen the beasts hiding,  
Hiding in fear of your hand,  
Hiding in fear of what you must do  
Should you and your true brethren  
Wish to survive.  
Go, Remoor,  
Go and now hunt the Irro.'  
  
In the days that the Irro traveled,  
Remoor spent his efforts training the Hirogen  
To make weapons from that which the Wild provided,  
To use the lances in speechless acts of tyranny,  
To hunt any and all types of Prey  
Living on Etutheria.  
  
He did not do so without a conscience.  
Remoor hated Himself for what He had already done  
To the K'rta Beasts for the Courage in their blood  
Flowed in his own.  
  
However,  
Remoor knew that He could not best Gratta  
In any match of wits nor  
Any match of strength.  
After all,  
Gratta governed all things, and  
Remoor was a lowly freakling.  
How could a Hirogen stand against a God?  
He couldn't, and  
Remoor couldn't risk His demise  
When a new people, the race of Hirogen,  
Needed Him most.  
  
Hunting Irro He would go,  
But He would not risk His life alone.  
  
From his new brethren,  
He chose Hunters.  
  
Remoor named and chose Thurn  
For the strength of the trees.  
'You have the strength of many, and  
You will join me on the Hunt,'  
He said.  
  
Next, Remoor named and chose Taxiss  
For the rage of the river of the same.  
'You have the power to shape rock, and  
You will join me on the Hunt,'  
He said.  
  
Next, Remoor named and chose Skousen  
For the swiftness of the wind.  
'You will be our speed, and  
You will join me on the Hunt,'  
He said.  
  
Next, Remoor named and chose Sachar  
For his skillful handling of his lance.  
'You will be our weapon, and  
You will join me on the Hunt,'  
He said.  
  
Next, Remoor named and chose Kuhn  
For his hearing, as nothing escaped  
The Hirogen's ears.  
'You will find the Irro where they lay, and  
You will join me on the Hunt,'  
He said.  
  
Next, Remoor named and chose Averell  
For the width of his back.  
'You will carry the dead back to N'noka, and  
You will join me on the Hunt,'  
He said.  
  
Last, Remoor named and chose Barent  
For his skepticism.  
'We have been given this quest by Gratta,  
He Who Governs.  
I do not trust the Powerful One, and,  
For that reason, I would like a strong Hirogen  
Taking up the rear as we march into the Wild.  
As you question all things,  
You are perfectly suited for this task.  
You will guard our rear, and  
You will join me on the Hunt,'  
He said.  
  
Finished, Remoor lifted Thunder, and  
He gouged a mighty line in Etutheria's  
Thick soil.  
  
'Today, I wound the very world that gave me life  
For the last time,'  
Remoor said.  
'I was given life by each and all of the beasts  
As well as each and all of the plants  
As well as each and every thing growing  
In the Garden of Etutheria.  
I have already rid the world of the K'rta, and  
I fear this hunt will rid the world of the Irro.'  
  
Remoor glanced around at the race Gratta,  
He Who Governs,  
Had given Him.  
  
'Let this wound stand as the last  
I will inflict on this world,'  
The Hirogen said.  
'Should I be tasked to inflict any other  
Beyond destroying the Irro,  
I demand that you, my new brothers,  
Rise up and stop me.  
I demand that no more of Etutheria  
Be taken by the hand of any Hirogen.  
Should Gratta,  
He Who Governs,  
Ask more of me,  
Then I demand that all of you  
Rise up and  
Take my life as penance for  
Such a deed.'  
  
Slowly, the Hirogen agreed, and  
Thus began the Final Hunt of Remoor. 


	7. Chapter 07

Ch'thyr'kahh R' Hirogen  
Translated (Starfleet Standard [SFS]): Scroll of the Hirogen  
  
  
Remett  
Translated (SFS): Seven  
  
Into the Wild,  
Remoor the First led His council.  
  
They had spoken after leaving N'noka, and  
They had agreed that, at the words of Taxiss,  
The Hunters would be known throughout  
All of Etutheria as  
The 'Brotherhood of Remoor.'  
  
Time was short,  
As Gratta was waiting.  
  
Remoor was most interested in two  
Of His brethren,  
Thurn and Taxiss.  
  
In Thurn,  
Remoor saw the strength of many Hirogen.  
Thurn was cunning  
For Remoor could see it in his eyes  
When he looked into the Wild.  
Thurn was agile  
For Remoor could see it in his movement.  
In so few risings alive,  
Remoor knew that Thurn had already smelled  
The Scent of Prey in the Hunt.  
  
In Taxiss,  
Remoor saw the leadership of coming days.  
Taxiss was intelligent  
For Remoor had heard it in his words.  
In so few risings alive,  
Taxiss knew all of the names of  
Etutheria's places, beasts, and growths.  
Taxiss was outspoken  
For Remoor had seen him keeping the peace  
Amongst the Hirogen.  
  
In the Wild,  
Remoor guided the two to a secret place,  
The Grove of Portellion  
(A red flower heavily populating the stretch),  
And He spoke to His special brethren  
Under the quiet trees.  
  
'Brothers,'  
He said.  
'You must hear my words privately  
In the Grove, and  
They must become your own  
For the days after today,  
And the days long beyond tomorrow,  
Will belong to the likes of  
Thurn and Taxiss.'  
  
'The Hirogen have spoken, and  
Remoor the First will ever preside  
Over the Brotherhood,'  
Taxiss said.  
  
Remoor's heart was heavy.  
'The people Hirogen were given to me  
By Gratta,  
But I have no desire to possess  
A world of Hunters.'  
  
'Remoor shall lead us into tomorrow,'  
Thurn insisted.  
  
'My days with the Brotherhood will be few,'  
Remoor said.  
'Hear me, and know that it is the wish  
Of Remoor the First that these words  
Become your own counsel.  
My days will be few, but  
They will serve purpose.  
Beginning,  
I will guide the two of you  
In the Ways of the Hunt  
As, even today, the two of you  
Are showing greater understanding  
Than so many of your brethren.'  
  
'I will not hear this,'  
Thurn insisted.  
'Remoor will always lead the Brotherhood.'  
  
'My days will the Brotherhood will be short,'  
He said.  
'Mighty Thurn, still your tongue  
For I have no doubt that  
Gratta, He Who Governs,  
Will see to my death,  
As I have no intention of Hunting  
All of the Irro.'  
  
'The Hirogen will not allow  
The Way of Gratta  
To bring harm to Remoor the First,'  
Thurn said.  
'The Brotherhood of Remoor  
Will stand in His way.  
He will find no land to govern here.'  
  
'But, Remoor,'  
Taxiss reasoned, as he had shown the skills,  
'Gratta has demanded the Irro of you.  
What He Who Governs asks of Remoor,  
He Who Governs asks of the Hirogen.'  
  
Remoor agreed.  
'What would you do, thoughtful Taxiss,  
Should Gratta ask that you  
Hunt your brethren until they are no more?'  
  
Silence fell over Thurn and Taxiss.  
  
'To defy He Who Governs was never in my mind,'  
Remoor said.  
'An Irro will be hunted.  
Thoughtful Taxiss, each of us has a path  
Placed before him  
In the Wild.  
Each must study the road before traveling.  
Each must see the turns in the route.  
Each must caution the rise and fall of the soil  
So that he knows whether or not he can pass.  
In the end, each must choose whether to  
Enter the path  
Or to stay his feet.'  
  
Enraged, Thurn turned away.  
'You have chosen to stay your feet,'  
The Hirogen said.  
'You ignore the Hunt.'  
  
'I ignore He Who Governs,'  
Remoor said.  
'Mighty Thurn,  
Gratta did not breath life unto my mouth.  
Still,  
I have granted him penance for the deed.  
Gratta did not embrace all of the Wild,  
But I have given my allegiance to Him  
As if N'noka itself were His idea.  
In My haste,  
I have forsaken Etutheria,  
My Lifebringer and yours.'  
  
'In doing so, you must ignore the Hunt,'  
Thurn said.  
'There is no other way.'  
  
'As I have said,  
The Wild has many paths.  
Brother, I am Hirogen,'  
Remoor said, His words stronger this time,  
Causing His brethren to face Him.  
'In my nose, I smell the Prey.  
In my mind, I see the path.  
In my blood flows the Hunt.'  
  
A stillness came from the Wild,  
As Etutheria itself  
Was shaken.  
  
'Mighty Thurn, stay your feet,'  
Remoor ordered.  
'I give you my word.  
I will not ignore the call,  
But I will not Hunt the Irro.  
You shall,  
And you will stay your hand after a single kill.'  
  
'Remoor, you must teach us the way,'  
Taxiss said.  
  
'We have many risings of Etu,'  
He said.  
Remoor smiled,  
The heaviness of His thought  
Finally lifted from His breast.  
  
'First, we must discuss  
The fate of Gratta.' 


	8. Chapter 08

Hidden away in the  
Grove of Portellion,  
Secreted away from the rest  
Of the Brethren,  
Remoor the First,  
Thurn and Taxiss  
Spoke at length  
Of the events yet to come.  
  
'As sure as blood flows  
Through all of me,  
I fear that  
Etutheria will find no lasting peace  
So long has Gratta lives,'  
Remoor said.  
  
Their heads bowed,  
Thurn and Taxiss agreed.  
  
'He Who Governs did not create Etutheria,'  
Remoor said.  
'Nor did he create the K'rta,  
The loving K'rta,  
That he had me destroy.  
Nor did he create the Irro,  
The graceful Irro,  
That He would have us  
Feast upon  
Until the very last drop of blood  
From the very last Irro alive  
Was spilled in the Shanklands.'  
  
Their heads bowed,  
Thurn and Taxiss agreed.  
  
'My brothers,  
Ours is a world without blessing,'  
Remoor concluded.  
'Through a darkness so foul,  
So dense,  
We must together find our way.'  
  
'What would you have us do?'  
Thurn asked,  
His head raised,  
His eyes fixed.  
'Remoor,  
What would have of me?'  
  
Pleased,  
Remoor nodded.  
He knew that his choice  
To trust Thurn,  
To trust Taxiss,  
Was full of the wisdom  
Granted and  
Blessed  
By Etutheria's light,  
Etu itself.  
  
'Mighty Thurn,  
Your part in this Hunt will be simple,'  
Remoor said.  
'Of it,  
I have already spoken.  
When Etu is fixed  
At the precise moment  
In the sky,  
You will kill  
A single Irro.  
No more,  
No less,  
But a single Irro.'  
  
'Remoor the First,  
Have you lost your  
Scent for the Hunt?'  
Taxiss asked.  
  
'My intentions are plain,  
Thoughtful Taxiss,  
As I have already  
Made them so.  
The same desire for freedom  
That flows in  
Your Hirogen blood  
Flows in mine,'  
Remoor said.  
'As for this Hunt,  
I will take one life.  
Be it my own,  
I accept the Cruel Fates.  
Be it another,  
I accept the leadership  
Of the Brethren.'  
  
Remoor saw  
That Taxiss and Thurn  
Looked at him  
With their eyes  
Full of curiosity.  
  
'Thoughtful Taxiss,'  
Remoor said,  
'This Hunt may cost  
Nothing less,  
Nothing more  
Than my very breath.'  
  
Rising from his perch  
On a stone in the  
Grove of Portellion,  
Thurn placed his hand  
On Remoor's shoulder.  
'By my blood,  
I will not allow it,'  
He said.  
  
Remoor touched Thurn's hand, and  
He nodded.  
'You speak with force,  
Mighty Thurn,  
But a choice in this Hunt  
You may not have.  
Indeed,  
My thoughts tell me  
That I have little choice,'  
Remoor said.  
  
Thurn's gaze turned  
From anger to hopeful.  
'Then, Remoor the First,  
That is the Hunt for me!  
You have witnessed my strength!  
You have seen me yield  
A weapon  
Such as Your Thunder,  
Unyielding Thunder,  
With the same grace!  
The same ease!  
The same desire!  
This Hunt you speak of  
Is mine!  
One Hunt that defies my success  
Is all a Hunter can ever hope for  
In the length of his risings!'  
  
'This Hunt,  
Mighty Thurn,  
Is not your concern,'  
Remoor said.  
  
'Instead, you would have me  
Waste a swing at a halfling Irro?'  
  
'No, Thurn,'  
Remoor said.  
'As I have proclaimed,  
The part you are to play  
In the Hunt  
Has already been decided.'  
The Hirogen leader turned  
To face the second brother  
Gathered at the secret meeting.  
'It is Taxiss who now desires to know  
What role  
He will play in this Hunt.'  
  
'It have been in my thoughts,  
Remoor the First,'  
Taxiss agreed.  
  
Remoor sighed,  
As he had grown weary.  
The scent of Portellion  
Eased his pain, and  
He found the strength to  
Continue.  
  
'Mighty Thurn and Thoughtful Taxiss,  
What I confess to you today  
In the Grove of Portellion  
I do so of my own freedom,'  
Remoor said.  
'I share it with you freely, and  
I only ask of you to keep your tongue  
About that which I am to share.  
For ...  
I fear I am nearing  
The last of my days  
On Etutheria.  
I have disgraced her.  
I have abandoned her.  
I have dishonored her.  
She owes me no allegiance, and  
I have wrongfully  
And mistakenly  
Pledged mine to  
He Who Governs.  
If this Hunt is to be my last,  
Then I,  
With heavy heart but bright hope,  
Do bequeath  
The Leadership of the Brethren  
To you, Thoughtful Taxiss,  
And I would have Thurn  
Serve  
As the master to your counsel.  
You are but two halves of a whole,  
The whole of the Hirogen, and  
The Brethren will need your spirit  
To survive,  
To understand,  
To endure  
The long days to come.'  
  
'To me?'  
Taxiss asked,  
His hand trembling  
On his breast.  
'Remoor, you would have me  
Lead our Brethren?  
What know I of running a world?'  
  
Remoor the First had anticipated  
Taxiss's fear, as He realized  
That,  
In the beginning,  
Remoor himself had felt the same  
Disease.  
  
'As the Cruel Fates would have it,  
Thoughtful Taxiss,  
You know as much as I  
When I inherited the position from  
Etutheria herself, no less,'  
Remoor said.  
'Mind you, that is not a curse.  
It is a gift, and  
I give it to you freely.  
To question oneself is  
To question life itself.  
To doubt oneself is  
To doubt only your worthiness.  
But,  
Thoughtful Taxiss,  
I have seen your thoughts  
Placed into actions, and  
I know of no Hirogen  
Finer suited  
For the challenge  
Of what lay ahead.  
Fear and doubt  
Are the ways of all good Hirogen,  
Ones who will one day  
Inherit the role of the First  
From you  
In the days to come.'  
  
Thurn took his hand from Remoor, and  
He placed it on Taxiss.  
'Thoughtful Taxiss,  
I would be honored  
To serve you  
In my life and,  
If need be,  
By my death.'  
  
'It is decided,'  
Remoor the First concluded.  
'Now,  
We must speak of darker affairs.' 


	9. Chapter 09

After many long words  
With Remoor the First and Thurn,  
Taxiss agreed that it was he  
Who should take the message  
For peace  
To the Irro.  
  
So,  
Remoor sent word  
Into the wild that  
Counsel would take place  
Between Taxiss and Bandur,  
The head of the Irro,  
Near the edge of the Shanklands.  
  
When the time was right and  
Etu was high in the sky,  
Taxiss stepped into the clearing  
And saw the lone creature  
Awaiting his arrival.  
  
Bandur of the Irro  
Met Taxiss, the Hirogen,  
On the border of the Shanklands.  
  
'As you well know,  
The Irro have nothing  
To say to you  
Or your Brethren,'  
Bandur said.  
  
Trying to appear at ease  
For his own sake  
And for Bandur,  
Taxiss sat upon a rock.  
  
'I would still  
Have words with you, Bandur,'  
He said.  
'If we do not,  
You and your kind  
May face a doom  
Greater than that which befell the K'rta.'  
  
Bandur reared its head,  
Its six limbs clutching  
The soil  
Under their nails.  
'A fate crueler than the K'rta?'  
It asked,  
The fur on its neck quivering.  
'What trickery is this, Taxiss?  
Do you jest for only my ears?  
As Etu rises in the sky,  
The K'rta are no more, and  
As Etu rests on the ground,  
The Hirogen are to blame.  
Still,  
You would call me into counsel  
With the threat of a greater evil?  
I can only laugh as I ask  
What greater evil there may be  
Than the death of an entire kind?'  
  
'You are wise, Bandur,'  
Taxiss reasoned,  
As he had shown the skill.  
'In truth,  
There can be only  
One greater evil, and that,  
My wise friend,  
Would be the death of Etutheria,  
Herself.'  
  
Bundar raised his head,  
The mane of his strong neck  
Trembling even greater  
Than before.  
  
'You think me a rock!'  
It shouted.  
'You think me the lifeless stone  
If you expect I would believe the words  
Of the betraying Hirogen!  
Your Brethren are mighty, but  
You are not mightier than a world itself!'  
  
'Bandur,  
You are wrong in thinking  
That the Hirogen feel  
Less of you  
Than we do of ourselves  
Or for our world,'  
Taxiss said,  
Showing his open hand  
To the Irro  
As a sign of kinship.  
'Remoor the First was of the same blood, and  
I am of the Blood of Remoor,  
Meaning that you and the First  
Are bound.  
So am I bound to you.  
Still,  
There is a greater evil,  
One the Cruel Fates have  
Set for Etutheria.'  
  
'What is worse than  
The death of a kind?'  
  
'The death of Etutheria,'  
Taxiss said again.  
'If Etutheria were to die,  
Then all of us would follow.  
But,  
It is not the Hirogen  
Who would make this happen.  
It is no less than Gratta,  
He Who Governs.'  
  
The Irro clutched the ground, and  
Taxiss opened his second hand as a  
Greater sign of kinship.  
  
'Hear me,  
Gracious Bandur,  
And then I will let you  
And your kind  
Reason for yourselves,'  
Taxiss insisted.  
'You know Remoor.  
Indeed,  
The First tells me that you were present  
On his Birthing Day.  
That would mean that you,  
The Irro,  
Know him far long than I,  
Know him far better than I,  
Know him far greater than I.  
Think with your blood,  
Gracious Bandur,  
Not with your mind!  
Would Remoor have willingly  
Hunted the K'rta to death?  
Would Remoor have willingly  
Slain those who were his first brethren?  
That which I know of him  
Tells me that it could not happen,  
It would not happen.  
As the First has spoken plain  
To me and to Thurn, the Mighty,  
He was given no other choice  
But to commit the deed.  
It was Gratta's command.  
If Remoor failed or if Remoor refused,  
He Who Governs  
Would have demanded even greater  
Sacrifices from Etutheria herself!'  
  
The Irro eased his talons  
From loving Etu's soil.  
  
'And now?'  
Bandur asked.  
  
'Now,  
He Who Governs would have  
Remoor and the Brotherhood  
Slay  
Every last Irro as food,'  
Taxiss said.  
  
'Am I to be the first?'  
Bandur asked.  
  
Taxiss breathed,  
Knowing that the  
Fate of a world  
Had been placed in his hands.  
  
'You are to be the only,'  
He reasoned,  
As he had shown the skill.  
  
'The only?'  
  
'If you would have it so,  
Remoor is willing to present Gratta,  
He Who Governs,  
With a single slain Irro,'  
Taxiss said.  
  
'The God will be incensed!'  
  
'If the Cruel Fates agree,  
There is little that Remoor  
Or you  
Or I  
Or any of the kinds of Etutheria  
Can do to stop Gratta,'  
Taxiss said.  
'Even now, I feel it in my blood.'  
  
'Then why would I agree?'  
Bandur asked.  
  
'Remoor wishes it to be a challenge to Gratta,'  
Taxiss explained.  
'The weight that would come from the challenge  
Would be mighty if the single slain creature were  
A dead Bandur, leader of the Irro,  
Brother to Remoor the First.  
The weight of the challenge  
Might sway He Who Governs to hear our reason.'  
  
'If not?'  
Bandur asked.  
  
'In the words of Remoor,  
So long as Gratta governs,  
Etutheria will never be free,'  
Taxiss said.  
He looked around the plains  
And deep into the Shanklands,  
Wondering how such beauty could be  
Lost  
At the whim of an angry God.  
'In the fire that is the galaxy,  
Dousing the flame of a single star  
Would mean nothing  
Unless the Galaxy itself  
Is willing to risk all stars,  
Large and small,  
In growing cold.  
If you would be our star,  
Gracious Bandur,  
Etutheria may become its own galaxy.' 


	10. Chapter 10

In the calm of the Shanklands,  
Bandur felt the winds of Etu  
Lift the hairs on the back of his neck.  
Peacefully,  
Quietly,  
Bandur stretched, its mind in thought, and  
It sat on the rock beside Taxiss, the Hirogen.  
  
'Thoughtful Taxiss,  
Let me ask a single question of you,'  
It said.  
'You are indeed a reasoning creature, and  
Your wisdom will lead me down the path  
Into the Wild  
Should you choose your words wisely.'  
  
Bandur looked at the Hirogen.  
  
'Should you not choose your words wisely  
As you have done this far,  
I will lead the Irro further  
Into the Shanklands,  
Further into the Great Beyond.  
I will lead them so far that  
None of your Hirogen brothers  
Will ever scent them again.  
You and your kind will be left  
To deal with the vengeful wrath  
Of an angry Gratta, and  
He Who Governs will punish you  
For your disobedience.  
For, if you are here  
With the blessings of Remoor,  
Then you will choose  
Your words  
Wisely.'  
  
The Hirogen lowered his hands and  
Sat firmly on the rock.  
  
'I await your question, Bandur,'  
Taxiss said.  
  
'If I allow my end  
To come at the hands of a Hirogen,  
Who will protect the Irro?'  
It asked.  
'They will be without leadership.  
They will be without so much that  
Has come before.  
They will be stranded in the Shanklands  
With no idea of the slaughter that  
Is yet to come.'  
  
Taxiss breathed.  
He looked up at the sky,  
Thinking for a time  
Before venturing to speak.  
  
'Bandur,'  
He finally said.  
'I will speak plain.  
I have no desire  
To mislead you  
Or any of the Irro.  
I am here, in your counsel,  
For peace, not the Hunt.  
Remoor the First has confided in me that,  
Should he fail or should he succeed  
In this endeavor,  
He is doomed.'  
  
'Doomed?'  
It asked.  
  
Taxiss looked at the Irro  
Instead of the blue sky.  
'While you might escape  
The Cold of Death now,  
It would only arrive later  
By Gratta's hand,  
In an act of anger,  
As Remoor believes will be his Fate.  
Whether you consent or decline,  
Remoor believes he is doomed.  
His challenge to Gratta will  
Spell it clean.  
One death today  
May mean life for the Irro,  
The Hirogen, and  
All of Etutheria tomorrow,  
But I fear this affair  
Will end in more than  
A single freakling growing cold.'  
  
'You fear?'  
It asked.  
'You are Hirogen.  
You know no fear.'  
  
'You have said yourself,  
Bandur,  
That I choose my words wisely,'  
Taxiss said.  
'Fear is not beyond  
My being.  
Fear is part of my Blood.  
It is part of the Brotherhood.  
It is part of the Hunt.  
It will forever be, sadly,  
A part of life,  
With or without the governance of  
Gratta.  
Still,  
A road is safer traveled  
Than merely tested,  
For without the journey  
We will neither know nor speak  
Of the evil  
That awaits us.'  
  
Bandur rose.  
  
'Remoor is plain,'  
It said.  
'He is the Irro Salvin.'  
  
Confused,  
Taxiss looked to the creature.  
'I do not know this word, Salvin.'  
  
It walked in a small circle,  
Considering whether an answer  
Was safe.  
'Since our brethren, the K'rta,  
Were slaughtered,  
My kind have taken to following  
A call other than the one  
From Etutheria.  
Some choose to name the call nothing, but  
Others have called it Salvin.  
Remoor has earned the title  
Of Salvin for the Irro  
In my mind.'  
  
'Thank you, Bandur,'  
Taxiss said.  
'Remoor the First will be pleased  
To learn that he still holds your respect.'  
  
'Gratta will be displeased,'  
It said.  
'My only happiness in the Cold  
Will come from knowing that the  
Expression on Gratta's face  
As he looks upon  
My flesh growing to dust was  
The fate I chose,  
Not He Who Governs.'  
  
Bandur looked to the nearby hills.  
'What of the Irro?'  
  
'Remoor has said  
That they are to head  
Upwards of the Path of Etu in the Sky,  
Into the lands of Woolenly,'  
Taxiss explained.  
  
'Ah, Woolenly,'  
It said.  
'The ground is green at Woolenly,  
I have heard it said  
Among my brothers.'  
  
'There,  
The Irro will be protected by myself, and  
Thurn, and the Brotherhood of Remoor,'  
Taxiss said.  
'By my Blood,  
I give you my oath that  
No harm will come of them.'  
  
'Then bring your lance,'  
Bandur said,  
Sitting on the ground,  
His claws relaxed.  
'I wish to rid  
Myself of this news.  
I wish to rid myself  
Of this burden  
At once.  
If this is the role I am to play,  
Then I wish it to begin at once.'  
  
Taxiss rose, and  
He opened both palms in a show  
Of kinship.  
'I will summon Thurn,  
Brave Bandur, and  
I give you my word  
That he will be swift.' 


End file.
